


What a Kiss Can Be

by elliebird



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Drunken Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: Armie looked so fucking goodat the Critic's Choice awards last week.  Since I can't make out with him myself, have 3k of Timmy getting to do it.





	What a Kiss Can Be

Timmy was twenty minutes into a very one-sided conversation about the tendencies “today’s youth” had of being disingenuous in the roles given to them when Armie appeared beside him with two glasses of champagne, as if summoned by the force of Timmy’s wishing it. 

He’d lost count of the number of these events he’d attended since the premiere of their movie. The last few months had been a chaotic swell of schmoozing, forming business connections and making the most of his “moment.” 

The after-parties had tendency toward tedium. He liked the free booze, the chance to meet some of his idols and spend time with people he didn’t get to see regularly any more. But he’d limped his way through his fair share of stilted, awkward conversations with Hollywood elite who insulted his youth and intelligence and cloaked the poison of their words in a guise of well-meaning advice. 

His current conversationalist was a screenwriter in his late seventies, one of those “back in my day” relics who condescended to Timmy and acted as if they were doing him a favor. 

Timmy had checked out of the conversation at the first mention of “kids like you,” and was desperately grateful when Armie sidled up to him with two crystal flutes and a smile that suggested he had better ways for them to spend their time. 

He’d lost his coat and tie at some point and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the vulnerable slope of his throat bared. He was disheveled, a little sweat-damp at his temples from the heat in the room, his skin flushed pink from alcohol, a pretty splash of color that started in his cheeks and spread down his throat. 

“Do you mind if I steal this young man from you?” Armie dripped charm, a flash of bright white teeth, steering Timmy out of the gentleman’s orbit without waiting for an answer.

Timmy took the glass Armie offered him and sipped at it, the bubbles hitting him instantly. It was sweet, the quality of champagne he’d grown up sampling in vineyards in Nantes and Angers during sticky, hot summers. 

Timmy couldn’t remember where they were or whose party this was but Armie seemed to know his way around. Timmy followed him out of the crush of party goers, admiring the movement of Armie in that immaculate designer tux, casually sexy without the coat and tie and dangerously seductive. Timmy could so easily forget himself in moments like these, forget where they were and what was at stake. 

Armie strode with a single-minded purpose through the main part of the house and down a darkened, deserted corridor, with a kind of confidence that Timmy hadn’t known truly existed until he’d witnessed it first hand. 

“Where’s Elizabeth?” he asked. The two of them had disappeared from the awards ceremony in a rush to make it to Harper’s school for an event and Timmy hadn’t seen her since. 

Armie grinned at the question. “She’s holding court, telling everyone how wonderful you are.” He pushed open a door Timmy hadn’t noticed, hidden in plain sight between two enormous Franz Kline reproductions. “She’s in her element, talking about her new favorite thing.” He paused for a beat. "That would be you." 

The warmth started somewhere in the pit of his stomach and spread outward until he was sure he was bright pink. 

Armie’s flash of grin was an unholy combination of possessive, triumphant and teasing. He ushered Timmy into the darkened, narrow space of what appeared to be a utility closet and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. He did it with the practiced ease of someone who made a habit of disappearing into darkened corners. 

“This is dangerous,” Timmy said, because he thought it was the right thing to say. It didn’t _feel_ dangerous. It felt exhilarating and sexy, a heady thrill of doing something he shouldn’t under the noses of Hollywood’s elite. He wondered how long they had until people began to notice that they were missing.

Armie found a light switch and the small space lit up. “That’s what makes it so good,” he said, his voice all rough and lazy. He was hoarse from talking all night over the din of another awards show, deep and raspy like he’d been smoking. Timmy closed his eyes, his hands fisted in Armie’s shirt. Sometimes in moments like these when it was just the two of them, he was reminded of how completely head over heels he was. Another glass or two of champagne and he’d reach the alcohol-tinged state of melancholy he tried so hard to avoid, lest he start counting the minutes until they said goodbye again. 

Timmy couldn’t hold back a laugh at the absurdity of what they were doing. Any number of people could have taken notice of their disappearance. “What are we doing?” The words were muffled against Armie’s shoulder as he shuffled them backwards, pinning Timmy against the wall with the heat of his body. 

Armie wound an arm around Timmy’s waist, urging him close and forcing Timmy up onto the balls of his feet, his hips against Armie’s. “I don’t know about you,” Armie drawled, bending at the knees so they fit together. He kissed the corner of Timmy’s mouth, a whisper soft back and forth that had Timmy weak-kneed. “But I’m making out with my boyfriend,” he finished and kissed the bow of Timmy’s mouth, his lips parting. 

“Oh ok,” Timmy said on a sigh and opened to him. 

Armie kissed with a dedicated focus. Timmy had fumbled his way through a fair share of kissing but with Armie he was being schooled on how to take someone apart with lips and tongue, the occasional graze of teeth until Timmy was usually on the cusp of breaking down and begging for anything Armie might give him.

He spent a lot of time worrying that Armie had ruined him forever. 

Timmy leaned into the kiss, into the steady pressure of Armie where their bodies aligned, from the width of his thighs, the tilt of his hips to the unwavering sturdiness of his chest. He wound an arm around Armie’s neck and let his free hand settle at his waist, holding him close in case Armie thought about stopping. 

Armie was all heat and strength against him. The silk of his tuxedo shirt felt almost sensual beneath his fingers, the material of his corduroy trousers rough against the thinner silk blend of his own. Timmy relaxed into the kiss, into Armie, letting himself be supported between six and a half feet of handsome and the wall at his back. Armie got so into making out, an enthusiasm and skill that made Timmy stupid, until he was digging his fingers into Armie’s shoulders, the flex of muscle beneath his hands an added layer of sensation. 

Timmy had been half hard since Armie appeared at his side like a beacon of debauchery, a wicked little gleam in his eyes meant only for him. Being kissed by Armie always cranked him from zero to ready-to-go in the space of a heartbeat. This was different, a sense of making up for lost time, the urgency of needing to be together tinged with the danger of being caught and the thrill of getting away with something. He was painfully hard. He arched forward, seeking, begging with his body for more than Armie was giving him. He wanted Armie’s cock against his own. If this was all he could get tonight, he would take it shamelessly and hold onto it until the next time he could get Armie completely naked, splayed out in some enormous bed and rub himself against all that strength and golden skin until they both came all over one another. 

He hadn’t had this - Armie’s mouth and hands and attention - since they said goodbye in the Caymans, with Armie kissing him senseless in the shade of trees behind their vacation home before loading him into the town car with a promise they’d see each other soon. The ache of missing him was replaced with the need to have him. 

“Armie,” Timmy said. He might have moaned it, or whimpered it. “Maybe we shouldn’t start something we can’t finish.” He let his head fall back against the wall, not because he wanted to stop but because he was imagining rejoining the party looking like he’d had the breath kissed out of him and the shape of his cock hard and obvious in his pants. 

Armie trailed his fingers from Timmy’s hip, tracing the buttons of his shirt up to the place where Timmy’s heart wanted to pound right out of his chest. He held his palm there. His lips grazed Timmy’s cheekbone, burned a path down his jaw, pressed a kiss to the jut of his chin. 

“I don’t know,” Armie drawled, the words a hum of sensation against Timmy’s skin. “Where’s the fun in that?” He was playful at this stage of drunkenness, all soft and smiling eyes, a flash of teeth when he grinned wide, a touch that was both teasing and full of promise. It was colored in desperation, the same breathless need Timmy felt. 

Timmy tugged him back in with hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, easier to fix than the hours-long sculpting and shaping Armie had undergone earlier. He opened immediately to Armie’s tongue, welcoming it into his mouth. He wanted all of Armie in him, deep enough it would be impossible to tell two separate bodies when they’d merged into one. 

Timmy felt restless and frantic, his limbs not his own, using his body to show Armie what he craved. 

Armie was immovable against him. “I have you,” he said, a reassurance lost in the heat of their kiss. He threaded his arm tighter around Timmy’s waist, proving his point, and licked Timmy’s bottom lip on the plush inside where the lightest touch was a shock of electricity through him.

Armie’s pleasure reverberated in a low, helpless groan that Timmy caught in his mouth and wanted to swallow, keep with him for the next time he was missing this. 

“You taste good,” Armie hummed, his voice that low rasp that made Timmy want to get naked and bask in it, let it slide like silk and and sin over his skin. He dragged his lips down the sensitive plane of Timmy’s jaw and hovered there, sucking a kiss just brief enough for Timmy to regret that they couldn’t risk bruises and love bites, anything to draw attention to what they’ve been doing for the last eighteen months. 

Armie caught Timmy's hand, his fingers unrelenting around his wrist. He felt the pleasure of it in a deeper, baser part of himself that yearned for Armie’s hands on him, Armie’s fingerprints leaving behind bruise-colored reminders that he’d been here on Timmy. Armie pushed Timmy’s arm up the wall, holding him there in a casually light grip that that belied the strength in him. 

Timmy closed his eyes. He loved this. He was overwhelmed by it, always ready to tumble over the edge from Armie's subtle, quiet dominance, his attention, his adoration and worship. 

Armie's breath caught in his throat, a wisp of sound that gave him away. Timmy loved being wanted by Armie. He loved the knowledge that this was just as important to him. There was no going back now, not for either of them and the proof of it always staggered him. 

Armie made a low sound of approval. "I love that you love this," he said. He squeezed his fingers around Timmy's wrist. 

_I do_ , Timmy wanted to say. There was no point to it - Armie knew and Timmy couldn't quite get the words to come. 

“You’re so pretty like this.” Timmy felt the heat of Armie’s gaze on his skin as he looked him over from the buttons open, revealing the flush on his chest to where his cock strained against the fly of his suit pants. 

Timmy flushed under the weight of Armie’s eyes on him. “Don’t,” he whispered. Armie looked at him like he knew all of Timmy’s secrets, things Timmy wasn’t ready for Armie to know. 

Armie’s grip on him kept him from shrugging out from under the scrutiny. He swayed forward, leaning into Armie, finding contact in sweat-damp skin under expensive silk. The breath he let out shuddered up through him, a shaky sound that bounced around the still darkness. He rubbed his cheek there in the open vee at Armie’s throat where he was hot, the hair there rough against his skin. Armie smelled like Neroli, like whiskey sours and the faintest scent of smoke clinging to him. Timmy didn’t want this to ever stop.

Armie caught Timmy with two fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up so they were nearly eye to eye despite the difference in height between them.  


The first kiss Armie gave him this time was a sweet, soft brush of an open mouth against his own, a wordless reassurance. It gave way to the next, Armie settling his free hand at Timmy’s hip and shifting his weight so Timmy could feel the full truth of Armie’s desire for him. Armie rocked his hips in a lazy back and forth, teasing and pulling away, giving and withdrawing. He kept Timmy at his mercy with his hands and his hips, his tongue tasting all of Timmy.

It happened slowly and somehow all at once, a sudden rush of arousal and a desperate certainty that he was going to come all over himself. 

“Don’t,” he hissed, panic breaking their kiss. “Don’t make me come in my pants.” It was a mortifying thing to say at twenty-two. The thought of it alone - of being caught with come stains on his Berluti slacks and ending up a blind item on all the gossip sites in the morning helped pull him back from the brink. 

Armie gave him a searching, deeply serious look. Sober, perusing, questioning. He grazed his lips over the spot beneath Timmy’s ear that always set him off. “Okay,” he said in a deceptively agreeable tone that Timmy had learned usually spelled trouble. “Why don’t I make you come in my mouth instead?” 

Timmy’s brain whited out. He might have passed out or disappeared to a higher plane but in the space of a breath he was blinking down at Armie, all six and a half feet of him, on his knees in his Ralph Lauren tux. 

Timmy stared down at him, a feeling like he’d had all the air sucker-punched out of him. Armie’s eyes on him were that same hungry, single-minded focus that he didn’t always understand or feel worthy of. The sight of Armie on his knees, his mouth pink from kissing and his face flushed with alcohol and pleasure,  


Timmy knew the feel of Armie’s mouth on his cock, the pleasure of watching Armie suck him with a heady combination of skill and enthusiasm while Timmy tried to act like he wasn’t ready to blow his wad the second Armie’s mouth touched him. He’d straddled Armie’s chest and fucked his throat with Armie’s hands on his ass, urging him deep. He’d had Armie on his stomach between his spread thighs with two fingers in him and Armie tonguing the head of his cock. But he’d never had Armie on his knees. There was nothing submissive about Armie in this position.

“Timmy,” Armie teased, dripping with fondness. He touched Timmy’s hip like a quiet, subtle demand for attention. “You still with me?” 

“I don’t know,” Timmy confessed. His pulse beat wildly. He was breathlessly turned on. “I think I blacked out.” 

He was rewarded with a grin so bright and pleased it was like bathing in sunlight. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t.” Armie’s face was cloaked in a hilarious imitation of sincere concern. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” His fingers toyed with the button of Timmy’s slacks.

Timmy let his head fall back. “Wow, you’re an asshole,” he said, casually like he hadn’t known that Armie’s greatest thrill was getting Timmy worked up, edging him until Timmy felt like he’d really and truly die and then bringing him to an orgasm so intense he may or may not have cried once or twice. Or every single time. 

Timmy pushed Armie’s hand away and unzipped himself. The slick, flushed head of his cock strained out of the waist of his underwear, desperate for Armie’s mouth or hand or any fucking thing Armie wanted to give him. Timmy didn’t love how easy he was for Armie, always ready to give it up because the reward was worth the ache every single time. 

Timmy wiped his thumb through the pre-come leaking from his cock. A shudder started somewhere in his knees, his legs trembling. 

The sound Armie made - like some primal, uncivilized beast with only his basest desire in mind - threatened to pull Timmy’s orgasm out of him before his dick had gotten anywhere near Armie’s mouth. 

“That’s so sexy.” There was a blunt honesty in the way Armie said it that made Timmy want to believe him. Armie touched Timmy’s hand. “Let me have that,” he said. He pulled Timmy’s hand away and fed the taste of Timmy’s arousal between his lips. The heat of his tongue on Timmy’s fingertips knocked him backwards against the wall with a thud. 

Armie laughed, a sound of pure, delighted amusement. “Careful,” he said with a mischievous grin. “You might make someone think we’re in here doing something we shouldn’t.” 

The reminder of how recklessly stupid they were being should have acted like a bucket of ice water and yet it had the exact opposite effect on Timmy. He felt emboldened by Armie’s desire, by Armie on his knees for him, hungry for the taste of his come. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself slowly. He wanted to tease the way he was teased, to have proof that he could get Armie just as worked up and out of control as Timmy had been since the first time Armie kissed him as himself and not Oliver. 

It proved a foolish experiment. He hadn’t taken into account how worked up he was, that even his own hand would bring him to the edge so fast. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered, his shoulders hunching, his back bowing as the pleasure spread outward to his fingertips, the backs of his knees, the balls of his feet. 

Armie caught Timmy’s wrist in a grip so self-assured Timmy was knocked off-balance by it. “I want your come in my mouth,” he said in a tone of voice Timmy had heard before, the one he used when he wanted Timmy with his hands bound behind his back. Timmy loved the pink flush on Armie’s cheeks, like maybe the words affected him just as much as they did Timmy.

Armie pulled Timmy’s pants down his thighs. “Feed it to me.”

“Fuck, Armie,” Timmy groaned, his hips jerking forwards. Fuck, he loved that the world thought they had Armie pegged, his love of knots and Shibari nothing more than gossip fodder. If only they knew the truth.

“They’re all going to know,” Armie said smugly, replacing Timmy’s hand with his own and sliding it in a slow tease from base to leaking tip. He glanced up at Timmy with dark eyes and his lips hovering against the leaking head of his cock. “Everyone’s going to know that I let you come in my throat.”

 _Stop talking please_ , Timmy wanted to say. The talking made it worse. Armie could talk him to the most breathless, overwhelming orgasm with the lilt of his voice and his knack for knowing just what to say to draw the need and pleasure from him.

Armie’s grin was knowing. They both knew the truth - Armie had turned him into an exhibitionist, shameless and desperate for praise.

Timmy closed his eyes on a shuddering breath as Armie took him into his mouth. He’d been teased and brought to the edge a hundred times by Armie’s hands and mouth but this time Armie took him in deep, wet and hot and meant to bring him off in a quick, shuddering orgasm.

They’d been in here too long. The teasing was fun but the reality of being discovered was not something Timmy wanted to consider.

His hands hovered at the crown of Armie’s head, wanting to dig in. He settled for stroking the side of his skull above his ear where Armie was surprisingly sensitive.

The sound Armie made vibrated through him from the back of his throat, sending a shock of pleasure rocketing through Timmy from his thighs to his hips to a tightening in his belly. Armie kept one hand loosely around the base of Timmy’s cock and palmed the curve of Timmy’s ass in the other, egging him on.

He pulled off, Timmy sliding from between his lips with a slick, obscene pop. He arched an eyebrow, all effortless elegance. “You want to fuck my mouth?”

Timmy didn’t answer, too busy coming with a gasp and a full body shudder, all over the lower half of Armie’s face. Timmy breathed through it, overwhelmed by the force of it, caught off guard by the suddenness. He watched the shock register in Armie’s face. He had come in his beard, on the swell of his lower lip, in a trail on the curve of his jaw.

Timmy slumped back into the wall, smug and satisfied with the pleasure of an excellent orgasm.

He risked a glance down at Armie who looked like he’d taken a fist in the solar plexus.

“Fuck." He let the word hang in the air between them for a beat, catching his breath like he was the one who'd just shot his load. "I didn’t expect that to be so fucking sexy." He wiped at his chin with two fingers.

The sight of Armie still on his knees with Timmy’s jizz on his face sent a buzz of aftershocks through him as his cock tried with a valiant effort to get hard again. He held out a hand and pulled Armie to his feet.

“I feel like you deserved that a little bit,” Timmy said, still smug, still breathless, still hopelessly in love.

Armie tilted his head like he was considering the point. “Could be,” he conceded with a fond smile.

Timmy leaned in, up on the tips of his toes, and kissed the open heat of Armie’s mouth. He indulged in a second of breathless kissing, pulling back with regret that they couldn’t spend the rest of the night fooling around, hidden from the rest of the world.

“Come on,” Armie said a short while later, after they’d looked one another over thoroughly, careful that this was still their secret. “Let’s go find my wife and get the hell out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new ~~hell~~ rabbit hole. I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com/) if you care to say hi.


End file.
